Liberty is being free from the things we don't like in order to be slaves of the things we do like.--Ernest Benn

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Sailing in the Zone

Ballou killed a skunk last night in the front yard. Her second. At least the 2nd that I was pleasured to watch. It's an occasion of much barking, pouncing, rooting in vegetation, and shaking, and fur-covered fragments flying. I was struck in the left arm by a fragment. Followed by incredible silence, peace, solemnity.

For a long while I didn't think my Doberwoman had the killer instinct in her. Her predecessor, Red October, was a serial killer. He even left a possum on the dinning room floor, one morning, in a pool of blood. (Cleaned up, I did, before Trophy Wife got up!). But once when the granddaughters were up for Easter (of all things), Doberwoman blew up her first confirmed black & white. Literally. In pieces. A few steps from our back porch. Again, while I watched.

What do I feel? Awe. It feels a little trivial to admit that. But I do feel some awe. Because Ballou, in her act of killing, enters in to a sort of a zone. A zone not unlike that of a surgeon or fighter pilot, I imagine. At least she zones me out. Like when she chases kiteboarders on the beach. I can't reach her. Not my voice, not even my hand on her collar.The only time she's bitten me was when I was trying to restrain her from intimidating hang-gliders flying off the cliffs. I should add that, over time, I've satisfied she's not really that potentially lethal on the beach. As soon as she approaches a kite boarder who's landed and walking ashore, she recognizes him/her as a person. She leaves her zone on her own.

So I catch myself in some reflection. I used to get in a kind of zone in racing sailboats. It started in Lasers and extended into my keelboat stage. Like what I was like in tennis. My zone fallowed me from the courts to the water. But it's not like that any more. For example, I no longer enforce Racing Rules of Sailing to gain advantage; The RRS are there to establish a standard for safety. In that context, I have come to look upon the racing we do as a group day-sail. Maybe the purpose of the race is to motivate crew into teamwork and effort. I just want them to help me optimize Das Boot's performance.

So, I am out of my previous zone. As far as competition is concerned for myself, I like the way Laser sailor Dennis Olson put it. He considered being buoyant under sail a privilege:

My competition is with myself and the water planet. While sailing, you hang suspended with one hand in the ocean (tiller) and the other hand connected to the sky (mainsheet). You are the pivot point between these two great fluids, the two worlds, and you get to go along for the ride.

Just the same, last night's experience supplies one more reason why I resolve to never, ever, think of bringing Doberwoman racing with me!

12 comments:

I will dislose that after one beer can race sometime in the 90's I was pushed by another sailor. And I pushed back.

I also recall reading of a earlier collegiate race in which two Lasers crashed into each other. In that instance, one sailor walked off his own boat on to the other's and punched his opponent in the face. I wish I could find that reference, but it occurred before Al Gore founded the Internet.

A strange dog ran into my grandsons' (outdoor) birthday party yesterday. It was a very ugly dog. It ran around like it was crazy. It yapped a lot. I don't know what it was doing in my grandsons' zone. People who own dogs should keep their dogs in their own zones.

No. You shouldn't be allowed to get away with that rubbish. Racing and day sailing are totally different. Racers are all weather, four season sailors. Day sailors are like sunshine patriots. Racers compel themselves to learn how to contend with adversity. Day sailors turn on the engine at the first sign of discomfort. I know you and I know you don't believe this bunk.

Here's a discussion of racing vs. sailing. For myself, racing was just a natural evolution following learning how to sail. But not for everyone. I can think of lots of friends, boat owners, who will not race, not even as crew on my boat. Racing, it seems, ruins sailing for them. I'm the same way: I wouldn't consider an invitation to go day-sailing for a New York minute without trying to invent a reason for not going. It also depends on the boat. Back in the days when I was a Laser owner, I could go sailing just for the hell of it. If I knew the Santa Anas would be up on the lake, I would call in sick to my then full-time job just so I could hear my daggerboard hum for 90 minutes.

Sozadee CA

Sozadee is a state of mind. It was discovered (or founded) many years ago on a hot August afternoon's sail out of Newport Beach. There was no wind (at least any stronger than the current) and a burning, glaring sun. The limp sails afforded no shade. All aboard knew the outboard was questionable. The ice on the beer was melting and discussion was skirting the issue of sunstroke. Suddenly, the word "Sozadee" was uttered, the breeze returned, and all was well.

Weather

Sailing is not the Answer. Sailing is the Question. "Yes" is the answer!

Olin Stephens II

"...increasing age has brought with it a loss of agility as well as less tolerance of discomfort, and my active enjoyment of sailing has become less. Reluctantly I admit today that the important place in my life once occupied by sailing has been replaced by a computer."